Afraid of Him
by Rabby
Summary: Neville's personal thoughts on Severus Snape aren't all they thought they were - they're more. And the thought scares him. A bit twisted...


Afraid of Him

By Rabby

Disclaimer: I don't own Neville, Snape, or any other thing remotely related to Harry Potter except for my Slythie costume. ^_^

Warnings: Slash? (Obviously, come on… O_o;)

A/N: Urm… Pretty strange coupling, hn? You can blame some strange fanart Toto-kun and I were discussing I guess…? ^^ So… I don't actually see this couple working, but I wanted to know how I /could/ see it working. I'm way too curious about these things… ^^;

I hate him.

I hate the class he teaches, I hate the way he teaches it. I hate him.

That's just it, though, isn't it?

I guess I don't really. Hate him, that is. The other things… I despise. People can be cruel. I've always known that. It's an obvious truth that no one can ever really hope to avoid. People can find the weakest out of a crowd and torture them with their own fears. Why? I don't know. They don't know. We'll probably never know. It's just human nature. And, of course, it's their nature. His nature.

I have friends. Everyone has _some_ friends. And they're nice. They, of course, have their own lives, and even their own subgroups among themselves. Friends among friends, as they say. I mean - I'm just… I'm just Neville, and although I'm sure people think I'm pleasant to chat with every now and then, none of them can really say I'm all that interesting. Not from what they know about me, anyway. Not from what I've told them…

Living with Gran. Ah, the joys of simply living, where my parents don't even recognize me. But there are plenty of people who have to deal with worse, I'm sure. This is normal. Isn't it? Well, it's normal for me.

But that's not the problem.

The problem is _him_. I hate him so much. But I don't. I said that. I don't hate him. I never really did.

I fear him. Every day I have to see him, I fear him. I fear anything he'll say to me, about me. Anything he'll say. There's this entire presence about him that makes him so imposing. Not many people like him. A lot of them hate him. How many fear him though? Who _really_ fears a professor, after all?

Even thinking about him, though… I get cold, and jittery, short of breath and my thoughts cloud over. Everything's taken over as soon as he enters my thought pattern. Gone… Foggy. Nervous. I'm so afraid of even thinking about him; it feels like he knows what I think. What would he say if he were listening to my thoughts now? About how I hate him, but I don't. About how he scares me so much I just want to die every time I think about him. About how I have this overactive imagination that just… Just takes over. It's insane, it's disturbing, it's embarrassing. I feel like everyone who knows me knows what I'm thinking, that I'm thinking constantly about him. About him doing things to me. That's the extent of my fear, really – it just goes on too far. Every time I'm in a room with him I want to take ANYTHING in that room and use it to kill myself before he gets closer. See, I'm a coward that way. A nervous, pompous little coward - because really he would never want to have anything more to do with me than he has to. Why would he ever… Ever do those things that I can imagine him doing. That I fear him doing every time I think too much on it. Just lying awake in bed _every night_ trying to make myself see reason. It never works. I'm always afraid. Well, there are of course moments when a person can forget themselves, their lives, and just _live_. But I'm usually dwelling on it some way or another. 

But that's not the entirety of the problem either – oh, no, it gets better.

He's imposing. So imposing. Impressive. There's probably no other person I've ever met or seen who has the influence he does. Suffice to say that anyone would aspire to it. Envy it. I know I do. But want it… Want it in more ways than I wish to know. I don't want it. Well, I do. But I want that person who is so strong to possess it. There are so few people in the world that you can really look to for any kind of strength so deep and penetrating at the same time. He's the only one. And I…

And I hate to think about it. I'm afraid of him. I'm afraid of him doing things to me. Things he would never do. Things that only I imagine him doing to me. Things… Things that… That would pleasure me…? Good lord… And… And that means… It's not so much that it _means_ this… But the truth _is_ this… That I want him… To do those things to me.

And I'm afraid of my own desire. It's wrong, it's terrible, and it's nothing like what he would do. I want him though… I mean… No. I must only want that imposing nature he has… Or… Or something of the like.

I hate this. I don't know what I want. Because I'm afraid of what I want.

So I'll settle on that I hate him. Because I'm afraid of him. It's not me; it's him.

I hate him.


End file.
